


Even Carpetbags

by mixedwithintellect



Series: Harry Poppins [3]
Category: Don't Let Me Go - Harry Styles (Song), Kiwi - Harry Styles (Song), Medicine - Harry Styles (Song), One Direction (Band), Sweet Creature - Harry Styles (Song)
Genre: F/M, harry but he's mary poppins, harry with children
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 12:21:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17425796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mixedwithintellect/pseuds/mixedwithintellect
Summary: Harry's gotten to know the kids pretty well, but there's something about Y/N that he hasn't been able to get through.





	Even Carpetbags

“Running low on bananas,” Y/N called from the kitchen, only to hear a disembodied shout of _hold on_ bounce back.

She reached up to adjust the large sunglasses perched on her head, as Trevor made another attempt to steal them. He would giggle when she would ‘find’ him out, and so she kept up the game, not particularly minding the juggle of a son and a bag of beach supplies slung over her other shoulder.

As the youngest boy opened his mouth, the dimples against his cheek were somewhat surprising to Y/N, just as they were every infrequent time Trevor laughed.

The kitchen was soaked in yellow, dripping off the windows and onto the paneled cabinets and marbeled counters. Three was the deepening sense that another day was occurring, but this time the day was to be special, with a Family Outing.

Well, it was a Family Outing _minus_ Harry.

After a month of him being there, it was almost impossible to imagine a morning without his bumbling frame sweeping by the mass of kids, ensuring Charlotte’s hat was on properly and Trevor had brushed his teeth. The reasons behind him not going were far from mean though; Y/N had figured he deserved the day off, and she could handle her 5 children perfectly fine, as she had been for the past year.

The reason for the Family Outing was the work luncheon Ms. Floyd had arranged, set up with a grassy picnic by a small beach. It was supposedly a _thank you_ to the staff for the latest push of hard work, but Y/N had a feeling it was more about the sudden stack of HR complaints and drama. There seemed a need for company morale within the employees, and what was better than a picnic?

Y/N felt that perhaps better hour scheduling, employee benefits, or even a more lax dress code would’ve worked splendidly, but no one had asked _her_.

Harry had planned to work with Mitch, but that idea quickly came to an end. There was water damage in the back room of the studio and the workers continued to push back the estimated finish date, which meant neither musician would be able to work peacefully until it was done.

So, it seemed Harry’s day-off had become a Day with Nothing To Do, complete with an errands list stacked up on his phone’s notes, and the restlessness of Doing Nothing on his shoulders.

“I’ll add ‘em to the list,” Harry replied, waddling into view. He was squatting as he walked, his hands out, gently pushing Miles in front of him.

The boy’s pink swim trunks were somehow a tad understated against the obtrusive neon floaties strangling his arms. He had a grumble within his soul that morning, as if the Devil himself had implanted a sense of discontentment. Harry had struggled to even get him out of bed, which was completely out of character for Miles.

“Don’t wanna go,” Miles repeated, for what must’ve been the thousandth time, and Y/N sighed.

Trevor successfully grabbed onto the sunglasses but, noticing his mother’s distraction, glumly put them back on her head. It wasn’t any fun unless it was a game, everybody knew that.

“How about you and I flip through some cookbooks out on the beach? Don’t even have to get in the water,” Y/N suggested. Harry glanced up, noticing how her voice dropped into something soft. It was one of her mom techniques, he had realized, the warmth in her tone calming even _him_ down.

Miles sniffled, despite no signs of tears reddening his eyes or blotching his face, but he gave a tiny nod. Enough to sustain the fact that he _was_ disgruntled and no recipe could dissuade that, but he was merely making the best of a bad situation and persevering on. A strong inspiration for everyone.

“Good lad,” Harry murmured, standing up fully and stretching out his back slightly. He had woken up earlier than normal for a Saturday to help Y/N get the snacks packed, towels folded, sunscreen loaded, and kids ready. It paid off, though, to see Y/N take a deep breath, to see her shoulders lessen their load, and her lips to relax.

Friendship wasn’t the word to describe what relation they had, even that felt too casual. Granted, it wasn’t for lack of compatibility, but just that their schedules didn’t offer much free time to lounge about, drinking wine and getting to know one another. Harry had been living there for a while, and he had figured he would’ve known at least why she had fostered 5 children by now. But he was as in the dark as he had been showing up to her door a month ago.

It was his plan to gather more info from Niall. The pair were meant to go grocery shopping, an activity they had built up as a bonding experience back in university that hadn’t gone stale over the years. Niall didn’t seem to mind that he would be missing out on the picnic luncheon, claiming that he had enough of all the “fookin’ assholes” and he didn’t need to see them semi-naked, awkwardly playing beach volleyball.

“Text me updates if you need anything. I’ll send you the address as soon as we get there. Do you have the credit card?” Y/N spoke all in one breath, her eyebrows sloping back down to her natural state of worry.

Miles had joined his siblings at the table, reaching his floatie arm over to scoop several grapes from a plate. Elise watched her brother with wide eyes, not understanding what the floaties were for, and perhaps thinking they were a new, elaborate fashion statement. Patrick looked immensely pleased with Miles, murmuring a quiet compliment under his breath that was taken with a grunt of gratitude from the latter.

Harry gave Y/N a reassuring smile, nodding, but the lines between her eyebrows persisted.

“Text me what I should get fo’ dinner. I’ll pick up the ingredients, maybe we can all cook it tonight,” he offered, to which Miles let out an excited gasp, and Charlotte began her rant about how she _could_ be on a kids’ chef show, if Y/N would let her use butcher knives.

Y/N nodded in agreement to Harry, shifting Trevor slightly on her hip as her sunglasses were slid onto his small face. The rims were lost in the poof of his hair, but he seemed somewhat satisfied with the darker shade of the world, so Y/N let him keep them.

“Alright, everyone fed?” Harry clapped his hands, and the kids mumbled their _yeah_ s, completely used to Harry’s routine of getting-them-out-the-door. With Miles pouching grapes in his cheeks like a squirrel, and Charlotte attempting a rebraid of her hair (possibly tangling it with Elise’s, which the other girl didn’t seem to like), it was a touch more of a struggle this morning than most, but Harry didn’t mind the challenge.

Roughly ten minutes behind schedule, the kids were loaded into the car.

When the door slid into place, the kids’ commotion dulling somewhat behind, Harry turned to Y/N. He was stood closer to the driver’s door than she was, his arm resting on the top of the hood. She was rustling through her bag, checking and rechecking that she had her keys, wallet, sunscreen, etc.

“Yeh have it all,” Harry mumbled, knowing quite well from the bags under his eyes that the both of them had gotten up early enough to ensure there would be nothing left behind. Heaven forbid Y/N not have Charlotte’s second-favorite snack (just in case the children could eat through _32_ bags of goldfish).

(Which was actually possible, but still).

At last, Y/N seemed to agree with Harry, and with a sigh, she let her bag fall against her side once more. She had on a modest one piece, with a pair of loose shorts and a t-shirt as a cover-up, and there was a faint white line of sunscreen left on her cheek.

“I just haven’t had the kids by myself in a bit, might be weird,” she confessed, somewhat in one breath, as if the confession would fold itself up and float away. No sign of surprise flickered in Harry’s eyes, because he had seen it coming. There had been a brief power imbalance between the two of them, when the kids caught onto how Harry had some authority of them, and they tried to manipulate it to make Y/N more lenient in her own ruling.

It had been a brief affair, since neither Harry nor Y/N were up for playing, but it had left Y/N feeling a touch overwhelmed. She knew her kids loved her, she knew they were never horrendously upset when they weren’t allowed to eat an entire bag’s worth of Oreos in one sitting, but she still felt like Harry was the _cool adult_ and she was simply the Parent.

Harry, on the other hand, wasn’t sure how to help Y/N reach a more confident place in her parenting.

He had been so used to knowing how to ease someone’s ache, it was an abrupt transition to realize that he didn’t have the toolkit to ease Y/N’s. It was simply that he didn’t know her very well yet, wasn’t sure what would make her nod and dilute the stress in her eyes.

They knew each other as prim adults would, and it bothered the _hell_ out of him. They were both in charge of 5 kids, for Christ’s sake, they needed to let down their barriers and become proper friends. The sort that wouldn’t need the confession, that Harry would be able to take one look at her and say, “Is anything wrong?” and have his answer.

“It’ll be fine, promise. If it isn’t, give me a call, ‘n I’ll come by. No problem whatsoever.”

Y/N eyes were caught off in the corner, her cheek tilted towards Harry to indicate that she had heard. She let out a bit of a sigh, agreeing, and a smile perked up her lips.

“Appreciate it, Harry. Thank you-” he made a noise as if to say _don’t worry about it_ “-I’ll check in later. Stay safe, tell Ni I said hey.”

He stepped back from the car, letting her squeeze into the driver’s seat. When the door opened, the noise of children emerged through into the open air once more, several screams from Patrick informing Harry that he was going to do a cannonball in his nanny’s honor, to which Harry saluted the young man. Y/N shook her head and laughed at that, and a smile grew on Harry’s face as well.

She deserved it, he felt, waving off the car as Y/N pulled down the driveway. She needed the rest, needed to laugh once more without responsibility shoving a steely, pouted-lip expression back on her face. This would be nice, she would relax, and maybe he would get a few of those answers he’d been looking for...

 

* * *

 

Niall was pushing the cart, having declared himself In Charge since moments of stepping into the grocery mart. Every so often, he would kick off the linoleum, raising his foot to rest on the edge of the bottom rack and fly down the aisle. He said nothing, rose no eyebrow, and remained so stoic throughout the whole motion, it seemed he were going off to war rather than making his way towards the rye bread.

Harry followed at a pace that allowed him to linger behind, as if he were simply a fellow grocery person within the same vicinity, but not entirely associated with Niall. That was, until Niall rolled his eyes and informed Harry that he was a cunt and should give it a damn try.

One flying Harry later and the two of them were off taking turns, switching off Cart Driver roles whenever the other tired of almost-crashing.

“How’s mannying going?” Niall asked, his attention caught by the variety of pasta sauces across the aisle. He was a man needing genuine pesto sauce, nothing with suspiciously long ingredient lists or weird chunks of _stuff_ swirling around in the pot. Niall was the sort to genuinely be into cooking but never give a rat’s ass about recipes, collecting the ‘authentic’ foods in his pantry and settling for toast every morning because he didn’t have the energy to make it French-style.

“Don’t _call_ it that.”

Niall had grown into the habit of calling Harry’s job _mannying_ since, according to Niall, Harry’s inclusion in anythingadded an impermeable sense of masculinity to the activity. Harry didn’t quite agree nor disagree to that point, having in fact sat straighter up when Niall said the words, feeling his ego swell to the slightest degree.

“Well, how’s it goin’?”

“Has Y/N mentioned anything about it?”

Harry sidestepped the question, similar to how he sidestepped the small child running down the aisle with the packet of Gusher candies in his grubby hand. It had been on Harry’s mind, anyway, how much Niall knew from Harry’s perspective, and what had been added to by Y/N’s. He was truly the man caught in the middle, an informant of knowledge he didn’t know the value of.

“She’s done a bit,” Niall said.

“And?”

“Ah, I dunno, she’s been busy with the extra shifts. So it’s more in the context o’ like, _Harry’s gotta watch the kids an extra hour before he can go to Mitch’s, fuck I’m such a bad person_.”

“Did she actually say _fuck_?”

“Yeah, once. The night Floyd got on her back ‘bout the invisible mark in the carpet.”

That night had been particularly bad, with Y/N rolling into the house with tears still swelling in her eyes. Harry had just hugged her, for an eternity of silence in the night, before making her eat, and getting her to bed. He hadn’t been able to go to Mitch’s that night but didn’t particularly care; his friend had managed to finish up the song that had been bothering the both of them for _days_ , so Harry was satisfied.

She had slept in the next day, not having work til the evening, and had apologized incessantly upon waking up. Harry had to ask her to please stop, that she was perfectly fine and hadn’t done anything wrong, and that he needed to spend time in the bathroom _alone_ sometimes, not with Y/N apologizing through the cracks in the door.

“But like, anything about how I’m doing?”

Niall fell quiet at that, mulling over the question in his mind as he tried to recall.

“Not particularly. Been only a month though, she’ll probably start complaining about yeh after two. Kinda annoying, yeh are sometimes.”

Niall cracked up at his own words, reaching out to put some chips in the cart, and Harry analyzed the ingredients list of a salsa container. The one he was looking for couldn’t have any tomato paste in it, that was just _unacceptable_.

The two of them switched off on the cart, Harry kicking behind him and soaring beyond.

When Niall caught up, Harry continued on with a question that had been on his mind for a while. It came out slightly practiced, but Niall was kind enough to not point that out, and take it in stride as if it were truly a conversational query.

“So, how’d she get all those kids anyway?”

Niall paused, scrunching his nose up, determining what the right words were. It was a delicate situation, Harry could understand that.

“When two people _really_ love each other-Ow!”

Harry had smacked Niall’s side.

“Niall, y’know wha’ I mean.”

Niall rubbed his arm, shoving Harry aside to take control back of the cart. His friend allowed it, moving to the left side and walking along. Niall leaned forward onto his forearms as he pushed along, his shoes squeaking against the flooring.

“When Y/N and I first met,” he began, “We didn’t get on too well. I was new, she was ‘pposed to show me the ropes. But I’m not the best at payin’ attention, so after a few weeks of me forgettin’ how to check someone in, she broke down. Properly ‘n utterly broke down, never saw a woman like that ‘n my _life_. But I promised I’d clean up my act, prayed she’d calm the fuck down.”

He chuckled, shaking his head.

“Actually, bought her flowers weekly for the rest of the month, since she said she liked ‘em. She just sorta gets yeh, all soft and wanting to help out. Doesn’t even mean to do it, she’s just like tha’.”

Harry nodded patiently, waiting for his question to be answered in the haze of Niall’s rambling storytelling.

“She told me, later on, that she had _actually_ broke down because she was goin’ to training sessions to become a foster parent before shifts ‘n it all got too busy. So, it wasn’t me that made her cry. Never made her cry since, by the way,” he pointed out, and Harry hummed to show he was impressed.

“Anyway, I met the kids as they came in. First two were Patrick and Charlotte. Then, Elise and Miles were next as a pair, ‘spite them not being blood-related. They were only ‘pposed to last a few months, dunno what happened, but they’re obviously still here. Trevor was last to come in. They call me Uncle Ni,” he smiled proudly, a tiny nod at the respect within the title.

“Yeah, noticed,” Harry mumbled, remembering when the kids had pieced together Harry knew Niall. They’d assumed the two were brothers, since they both were natives to Europe, despite being from different regions. Harry had spent quite the amount of time going over geography with them, only Elise and Trevor paying attention while Charlotte had reenacted a scene from _Pirates of the Caribbean_ with Miles. Patrick had been a fish in the ocean, slapping the floor below the couch and roaring his dominance over the Black Pearl.

“So,” Harry continued, kicking his feet out partially as he walked. He was trying to keep the tone light, yet with how Niall had slowed his walk down some, it seemed his friend had caught onto the serious mood.

“Is there a reason she started it? Fostering?”

Niall nodded before Harry could finish his thought, seemingly on board with where Harry was coming from and knowing how to respond. It had been a conversation Niall had anticipated, as Y/N’s situation was only briefly explained to Harry prior to the interview.

Niall proceeded to explain what he knew.

Y/N had been wanting to try it for a while. It had been on her mind since high school – one of her best friends had been put into the foster care system, and Y/N caught a glimpse into how it all worked. Fortunately, her friend was with good families, so Y/N’s experiences were consequentially pleasant. It got the idea in her brain, though, of branching out of the ‘standard’ family she had grown to expect.

Raising kids without anyone else beside her felt right. No one was coming into her life anytime soon, she felt, and the love in her heart felt overwhelming. She needed to give it to someone, and Y/N had always wanted kids. No reason to wait around.

With that, Niall cocked his head and grinned, mumbling, “She used t’ give me the best hugs after shifts, said she was _so_ appreciative and wanted me t’ know. Think it was her mum instincts kickin’ in.”

Right before Y/N had made friends with Niall, she had applied to become a foster parent. The care worker, Clare, worked to find a pair of siblings. That was Y/N’s primary goal, to find siblings that wouldn’t need to be split. It broke her heart to hear the sad stories and, once more, it had just felt _right_.

Charlotte and Patrick were found as a good match.

They were wary at first, having been through the system before. It was possible they’d only be with Y/N for a few months max, Niall explained. It wouldn’t have been advisable to get attached, despite Y/N’s reassurances that she’d like to have them around for a longer time than just those few months.

After a weekend spent living in a blanket-and-pillow fort, Y/N had managed to win them over. Charlotte had asked for help on a science project, Niall explained, which Y/N found to be the big ‘break-through’ in their relationship. She had called out of two shifts in a row to spend her time nestled with Charlie, going over hypotheses and vinegar amounts in the volcano. Patrick had worked on his airplane model kit beside the pair, interrupting the science experiment to show Y/N his improvements along the way. Throughout those couple of days, tensions eased and the trio began working together as a family.

It was one of Y/N’s happiest moments. She had realized she wanted these children to be her kids – in the inexplicable sense between a biological family and a family brought together through life.

“She was mum-enough befo’, but after that, it was fuckin’ madness how _mum_ she was,” Niall laughed, and gasped at a price sticker. The cart stopped abruptly, and Harry almost tripped trying to turn back around.

“Mate, sale on arugula? This shit’s amazing!”

Harry nodded, half still in his mind tangled to the story, to which Niall looked back over and rolled his eyes. A handful of arugula packets were tossed into the cart, and the story resumed.

“Elise and Miles, like I said, were supposed to be there for a short time. Guess authorities thought they’d be able to transition back to their families, guess it didn’t work out. Dunno much, Y/N doesn’t talk about it.”

At that, Harry frowned. It hadn’t truly occurred to him, that his kids had biological parents. Ones that could come back into the picture, ones that had connections with the children before he or Y/N had met them. It wasn’t a comforting thought, not really, not when Harry had a general idea of what could typically get a child pulled away from its family and put into a foster care system.

“Trevor...he was somethin’ else, lemme tell you,” Niall laughed.

One of ladies who worked at the foster center had reached out about a small boy who was having repeated troubles being set up at a home. Tensions were high with the families he had been introduced to, and more often than not, a call would be placed with the center about how it wouldn’t work out within the first few days.

But, Niall explained, Y/N wasn’t most people.

It was love at first sight. Trevor had been pouting and upset, refusing to look or speak to Clare on the car ride over. Clare had been a bit afraid of what would happen, since things had gone overwhelmingly well for Y/N thus far, and she didn’t want any setbacks in confidence or enthusiasm. With Trevor’s pouty lip and mumbling grumbles that would often peak into shrieks for no goddamn reason, it was enough to be worried.

When the front door had swung open and Y/N’s smiley face poked out over the door’s side, something had changed within Trevor. He quieted down substantially, still silently struggling to pull his hand out of Clare’s, but no longer moaning about it.

“She loves tellin’ the story, definitely ask her when you can,” Niall said, comparing two brands of bagels as he spoke.

Trevor’s eyes were wide, carefully staring at her as the three of them settled on the couch. The rest of the kids were tucked away in their rooms, understanding enough that they shouldn’t come out until things were finalized. Y/N didn’t want any craziness to spook Trevor, especially since Miles and Patrick had recently become the bestest of friends, with water balloons as their specialty.

The discussion had gone alright. Y/N sat on the couch as Trevor played hesitantly with some Legos, as she and Clare spoke. Y/N tried to speak several times to Trevor but all he would do was nod, as if unsure, and silence keeping his lips closed outside of that. It was, Clare tried to reassure Y/N, the best meeting that Trevor had been through thus far. But it still felt odd, and a touch forced, and Y/N was forcing a smile by the end, the lingering thoughts of whether she was capable as a mother at all drifting towards the forefront of her mind.

It was by the door that everything came into place. Y/N had knelt down, looking Trevor in the eye, putting out a palm gently for a high-five. It was her last attempt at connecting with him, trying to breach the scary _adult_ appearance she was sure she had over him. He didn’t high-five her back.

Instead, the boy chose to wrap his arms around her neck. Burrowing his head into her shoulder, he clung on tightly. Y/N blinked startled, as he mumbled a “Thank you.”

Trevor was put under Y/N’s care within the next week.

* * *

 

It wasn’t much to process necessarily, but everything still gave Harry something to think about for the rest of their trip. Niall took it in stride, always having put up with Harry’s mood swings – the dramatic contemplations swung against excessive giddiness. Each were equally matched by Niall and thus he adopted his own mood of sorts, humming to himself as he picked out floss sticks. The grocery cart remained dominated by Niall’s feet, kicking off down aisles and narrowly avoiding other carts and stocks of produce.

It was when they were making their last rounds (things were routinely forgotten until the car ride back to the house, in which it was too long of a ride around to get the bunch of bananas needed, so Harry had resorted to making multiple loops around the store until he would one day remember to start writing lists), that Niall spoke up again.

“Might be lookin’ for a new roommate, soon. Need the rent help, t’ be honest.”

Harry glanced over at his friend, his eyebrows furrowed in and his eyes wide. An apology was already on his lips, but Niall cut him off.

“Oh, shut up. It’s not yeh fault that Y/N offered a room, is it? Not really hers, either, just the way things worked out.”

“Maybe you could put up an ad? Bet loads o’ people looking for rooms here,” Harry said, putting out a hand to stop the cart from ramming into a stand of grapefruits. The grapefruits seemed to thank him, in their silent, fruit way, and Harry picked a few out into his bag.

Niall’s laugh made the elderly woman next to the beetroot juice glare, but Harry’s dimples quickly eased over the situation. She, with a smug look on her face, put a carton of cranberry juice into her cart, glancing back over at the tall Brit to see if he saw, but his attention was back on his idiot friend.

“Think you’re the newest addition to the town still, Styles.” He paused, before reaching over at one of the shelves. Glass clinked against the other groceries as he lay a bottle of wine in, and Harry looked at Niall curiously.

“Y/N’s favorite bottle. Just get her to open up a lil, she’s nice. Not likely to come outta her shell first, though,” Niall said, eyes already on the next thing, as he wheeled towards the registers..

Harry nodded, caught on the wine, wondering if he would be able to get the kids in bed in time to justify a glass or two. Y/N would probably need it, if the texts of Miles’ sandcastle attempts were anything to go off of. Patrick and Charlotte had formed a competition of who could pour the most amount of sand on Y/N’s co-workers without them waking up, and Elise and Trevor had been reading comic books beneath an umbrella.

Pulling his phone out from his pocket, he decided it would be worth it to send a quick text, to put it into the universe and see if she would be down.

“C’mon Haz, gotta check out ‘fore that lady makes her way over. She takes too fuckin’ long with coupons,” Niall groaned, his eyes narrowing in on the speed-walking woman, her bob bouncing all over the place as she sought to beat out Niall.

Harry padded along after his friend, head directed at his phone.

**Harry:** **hey** **how’s it going?** **w** **ent to the market, got groceries for curry - tell Miles they had th** **at brand of paste** **. Also got some wine ? Thinking you and I could have some later …**

_Y/N: Miles says thank you a trillion times over, and Patrick says thank you a trillion times over plus_ _ONE_ _. And wine sounds good :) Gotta make sure the kids are all set before_ _tho_ _. Charlotte hasn’t been liking her new pillows._

With a firm nod towards his phone, and looking up to see Niall’s angry face staring at the back of an unnaturally honey-blonde bun, Harry bit back a laugh. Looked like the rest of the day would pan out well, then.

 

* * *

 

The kids were exhausted. Not even the smell of curry could stir Miles enough to lift his head properly, as he trudged towards his room with the neon floaties still firmly on his arms. Patrick was a touch more alert, asking Harry if he bought ice cream, to which Harry slyly gave him the ‘ok’ sign with a wink when Y/N wasn’t looking. But the rest of them – Charlotte, Elise, and Trevor – were tuckered out.

Harry had finished up dinner when they got back, the plans of a Family Cooking night dashed to nothing due to horrid traffic. The dishes were set on the table, primly on the cloth with silverware and glasses of water set out before them. The dining room light was low, seeing as several of the bulbs burned out a few days back and Harry hadn’t made a trip out to the hardware store, and the entire house smelled of Indian goodness.

“Harry,” Y/N smiled gratefully, taking in the sight of a home-cooked meal with hungry eyes and heavy bags on her shoulders, “It looks great. Thank you.”

Harry nodded back, wiping his hands on the apron tied snugly around his waist and holding out a hand to grab some of the beach bags. Dishes were stacked, drying, on the counter, which meant clean-up after dinner would be cut into practically nothing. It was still on his mind, to get Y/N to open up later, just to learn some things about the family. Now that Niall had planted the idea in his head, it was all he could think about.

Because they were a family, and Harry was still figuring out where he fit in exactly, and there was still a blockade keeping him and Y/N from being especially friendly with one another. It wouldn’t do, to have a employee-boss relationship, when the pair of them were living together with children and responsibilities.

The dinner was strangely quiet. The kids had showered up quickly before the dinner, with Y/N not getting the chance to due to Charlotte insisting there was an ant in his bathroom. Harry had been distracted by Trevor, who was refusing to take a bath unless his favorite rubber duck (that had gone missing last Tuesday and had yet to show up).

Silverware clinked against plates, and every so often Trevor would let out a sleepy sigh, and Harry tried to engage Charlotte in conversation, only to get one worded answers back. Y/N was sleepy too, rubbing her eyes in-between bites.

Elise had _actually_ fallen asleep, her head resting next to her dinner plate and her fork still wrapped up in her tiny, curled fist. Harry reached over his glass to brush her hair over her neck, against her opposing shoulder, so that it wouldn’t fall into the food. Patrick tried to rest his elbow on Elise’s head, attempting to pose funnily, but sat back properly when no one was paying attention to him. It was the end of a Good Day/Family Outing, and everyone was ready for it to come to an end.

When the plates were stacked in the sink and Y/N was bringing Miles, Patrick, and Trevor to bed, Elise lolled her head against Harry’s shoulder. She mumbled sleepily into his ear and he couldn’t hold back the massive grin on his face. He had her in his arms, carrying the sleepy angel over to her bedroom, with Charlotte following close behind.

As the girls settled in for the night, Harry gently tugged Elise’s thumb out of her mouth when he laid her in bed, forming the covers just _so_ over her body, watching the fabric shift slightly until it formed the perfect Elise-shape. He had turned to tell Charlotte good night but found her fast asleep, underneath her covers, arms grasping onto her new pillows as if they were the same as her old.

It was funny, how much of her antics disappeared when she no longer had the energy to dramatize them.

With a chuckle and a sigh, he headed over to the boys’ room.

Y/N was tucking Trevor in, sitting on the edge of his bed, smoothing over his hair with her fingertips. Patrick was snuggled beneath his astronaut covers, and Miles was quietly inflating his arm floaties for another day. It was calm and quiet, the nightlight next to Trevor’s bed the main source of light in the room, and it was because of this that something caught Harry’s attention.

Reddish bronze and chipped on the wings, it slowly swayed in the gentle wind of the ceiling fan. Marred with memories from only a year ago, it symbolized everything that had come together under one roof, a patchworked family that was thriving with love.

The plane had been hung right over Patrick’s bed.

* * *

“Any reason you’re treating me to some wine tonight?” Y/N tucked her legs underneath her bum, resting on one end of the couch and balancing her glass as she settled in. The scent of warm sun and beach wafted from her skin onto the rest of the house, which made his eyelids feel languid and his tongue relaxed.

Harry got himself seated in the space next to her, his glass filled up slightly less than hers.

“Just wanted t’ talk,” he shrugged, and things felt awkward but somehow natural at the same time. Must’ve been the first few sips, the liquid courage. Perhaps it was because it was only the two of them and it felt like an adult setting, no mud pies or sidewalk chalk to interrupt the flow of their energies.

“About what?”

“Ourselves, really-” Y/N tilted her head at that, her expression unreadable, and Harry hurried forward with the rest of his thoughts, as if more words would drown out the way he felt, “-just felt like we haven’t done that. Had some questions for yeh, sure you’ve got some questions for me.”

She nodded at that, and he visibly relaxed. He didn’t speak up for a moment, though, and it seemed Y/N took that as a signal for her to begin with the questions, to fill up the silence with the curiosities that had dug themselves into her mind, as well.

“Why’d you move to America?”

Y/N spoke without quite looking him in the eye, one hand resting against her ankle as she took another sip of wine. Her head was directed towards him but slightly down, her eyes on her legs and the fabric of the couch.

Alright, he could answer that one easily.

“I met Mitch back in England, during one o’ his London concerts. Fell in love with the way he did music –it’s effortless, really –so when he asked me if I was interested in helping him with some new stuff a couple months back, couldn’t turn it down,” he smiled, partially crooked, tucking himself more into the folds of the couch. His head rested against the top, looking over at Y/N, his hair floofing out a touch over his forehead.

“No, I mean _besides_ that. You don’t just get up and move outta nowhere,” Y/N’s voice rose slightly, her lips pursing as she looked at him properly.

Harry took a few moments of silence to mull it over, seeing how her eyes shifted around his face until he felt comfortable to speak. He had an answer to that as well, but it wasn’t as easy to tell others. Yet, the purpose of the talk hadn’t evaded him and he knew it was going to be waded into discussions that brought them closer. Vulnerability was key.

“It was the fields.”

Y/N’s head perked up, but Harry’s gaze was firmly turned onto the fireplace, unwavering as he swallowed nervously.

“Just saw the same fields everyday. Hated it. Hated that I hated it, too, if tha’ makes sense. Didn’t know what I was doing with my life, but couldn’t bear to walk past all the trees and grass and know that’s all there would be.”

Another sip, and he continued.

“Needed a change,” his jaw hardened, and Y/N was held captive by the way his eyes flickered in the dim light, “A major one, one an ocean away. Felt like I couldn’t breathe, after a bit. When Mitch called, it felt _right_.”

There was the sense he was still holding back, not yet unraveling.

Somewhere within the threads of his suits and the crinkle of his laugh, was a man that hadn’t found a place to call home. The rolling hills had offered freedom and escape, but eventually turned into the stomach-dropping sense of endless plains, of grass becoming the only ground his toes would touch, and the clouds remaining a thousand miles away, and the ups and downs of the land a consistent cycle of loops and turns and twists, and he couldn’t bear it any longer. It wasn’t the dread of a hometown but more the dread of _knowing_ he was misplaced. Music had offered stability, belonging, a discovery of himself within the lyrics and melody and everything he had control over. Wherever it went, he would follow.

He looked over at Y/N, feeling those emotions at the bottom of his throat and against his tongue, not light enough to come across in words, and saw her gently nodding. It seemed that she had understood.

“So you just left?”

“Mum didn’t like it too much. Thought I wasn’t thinking it out all the way. Which, to be fair, I wasn’t.” A small grin, bashful, as if his mother were there and he was confessing to her, himself.

“But yeah. Packed ‘p my things, gave away what I didn’t need, and flew over. ‘T’s why I’ve got so many suits, one of Mitch’s friends – who’s my friend now too, I ‘ppose, but he was his friend first and... _well_ , that doesn’t matter ‘lright –so one of _my_ friends gave me clothes he’s been designing. Said I’ve got a good fit.”

Y/N snorted, and Harry didn’t know what about it sounded drunk, but the way her smile grew he knew the wine had kicked in a touch.

“Like a mannequin?”

His eyes were caught between looking at her lips and her eyes, the way one was becoming more red and the other more light, and he grinned.

“Yeah, like a mannequin.”

The two lapsed into a comfortable silence briefly, feeling more acquainted with the way the other moved. Wine glasses rose to lips and Y/N’s lowered with a slight stain from her lipstick. Harry spoke up.

“So, I asked Niall a bit about the fostering. Hope that’s alright?”

She smacked her lips together and shook her head, only it was the type that actually meant a nod and Harry felt his chest tighten until he realized that fact.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s fine...you only asked now?”

Harry furrowed his brows.

“Yeah?”

“Oh. Just thought you’d’ve asked before now, to be honest. But it’s fine,” she nodded, “if you have any questions, I can answer them too. I’m an open book.” Her hand not clutched to the glass laid out, palm up, symbolizing how transparent she was willing to be.

The room was cast in the comfortable nature of it being night, and them being adults, and kids being asleep. Even so, there was an aspect reminiscent of sleepovers and hushed pillow talk and the way secrets would flow out from tongues and the backs of teeth, languid and moonlit. They were kids, in their own way.

“Just wondered, ‘bout the kids ‘n all, what their stories are? If you can tell me.” It felt like a good enough suggestion, one with enough exits for her to slip through if needed, but enough time and opportunity to truly tell him what he wanted to know.

She was quiet, lengthened out with contemplation and a small sip of wine. Her glass was nearly empty at that point, but she made no move to refill it.

“I suppose, yeah,” she mumbled, “It’d make sense for you to know some things. Just in case.”

He didn’t ask what that meant.

“Patrick and Charlotte were neglected, horrendously. I don’t know all the details,” she confessed, with the soft hesitation of one choosing their words carefully. “Trevor’s mother was somewhat the same, I wasn’t told the whole thing on his background either. Miles’ situation was a bit tricker. Parents gave him willingly, said it would help them get back on their feet sooner.”

“Can they ask for him back, then?” Harry interrupted. The conversation had wrapped him in, as situations swirled around his mind and the kids in various predicaments. None of it felt particularly real, he couldn’t imagine Patrick and Charlotte anywhere but in the house.

Y/N firmly shook her head.

“Clare said it didn’t look like it, and I’m filing the adoption papers in a few months, so probably not.”

“Elise?”

Y/N hesitated, a blank, heavy silence extending to her fingertips as she inspected her wine glass.

“She’s been in the system for a long time,” she paused once more, but he didn’t say anything, and she let slip some last words before taking a sip. “Parents abandoned her multiple times before she was taken in, apparently.”

It did make sense, how Elise had hesitations with new people and was usually happier off on her own. Her friendship with Trevor could stem from that he was younger than she was, which put her in charge.

Harry felt caught in a sort of whirlwind. The idea of his kids being exposed to horrendous situations, of being taken away from the only sort of family they knew, of not knowing what their next family would be like, of going through immense psychological trauma without even knowing what had happened – it was surreal. Somehow, it genuinely hadn’t occurred to Harry the levels of intensity in these children’s pasts.

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Y/N murmured, “It can be overwhelming, I know.”

She looked over at him, and for the first time it seemed she was entirely aware that he was in their lives.

“It’s okay if you need some time, or if you have questions later. We’re just doing the best we can, giving them the best we can.”

Harry nodded, staring off at the wall as he drank. It did feel a touch removed from the reality he knew. It had felt like a separate conversation to think of the kids in terms of who they were before they had come to Y/N’s house. The walls around him just felt like a home, with cozy blankets everywhere and the way the kids sprawled out their lives on every surface that could hold crayons and a stack of comic books.

“I didn’t realize,” Y/N took in a breath, before deciding the confession was worth pursuing, “What it would be truly like to foster these kids. I guess I figured that it would be hard to let them go after a few months, but that’s not what it is, at _all_.”

Her eyes flickered over, in the hazy dim glow of the night and the dying bulbs, and Harry wondered if she had fears of them leaving her in the future. Was she as confident as she seemed? Were the adoption papers a genuine reality, or a desperate attempt at sorting out her family?

She suddenly seemed her true self, half-casted in the darkness and half-exposed in the light. She held a vulnerable softness in the slouch of her body, the mom-esque capabilities still there, but understated. He was suddenly aware of his memories from uni, where he spent more nights than not dangled against a rooftop with someone, wine in their hands and dreams in their hearts as the moon rose higher against their foreheads.

“This doesn’t usually happen, y’know? Five kids, my _first_ five kids, and all I want is to protect them forever. Love them forever, hold them and make sure they realize all their potential in the world. Give them the opportunities to explore that potential.”

“You’re doing that. And you’re gonna continue to do that,” he spoke with a firmness in his voice, his eyes set on her rosy cheek as she kept her head towards the wall. It seemed to be the easiest way for them to communicate that night, and the wall worked as a surface to bounce off ideas, spurting out the adult thoughts and childish dreams they were struggling to balance inside.

“You’re a great help, Harry.” Her voice was softer, now, transitioning them back to the adult construct and within the context of opening up more, her voice cracked as she persisted on.

“Honest, I don’t know what I would do without you. At first, I didn’t really like it...like, I knew I needed the help, but I’ve just wanted to do this _alone_ for so long, it felt a bit like failure. ‘specially when the kids liked you more than me-” Harry opened his mouth to interrupt, but she shook her head “-No, it’s fine, it was expected. It’s fine now, it was just the transition period.

“You’ve just been such a _great_ influence. The boys like having a male figure to look up to. I mean, I’m all here for female power and they know they can come to me about whatever, but it _is_ different. You’re good for them. Heard Patrick telling the other kids about how powerful kindness can be,” she tilted her head, going back to the memory as Harry’s heart grew with each second, “They were fighting over treehouse designs, for next month? Said he heard it from you, that you told them kindness is the most important thing.” A smile grew on her lips, a gentle shine in her eyes as they looked at each other.

“And Elise,” Y/N sighed, “Well, I guess you get it more now. How great it is she warmed up to you, how _major_ that is.”

The atmosphere shifted, a creak from the house settling shuddering the pair as they broke against the waves of emotional heaviness time and time again. Harry’s tongue felt heavy against his mouth, and Y/N’s eyes were half-lidded with the slur of sleep, sunshined-skin, and the dripping sway of wine.

“I’m grateful to be here,” the lump in Harry’s throat restricted the pitch of his voice more than he had expected, and Y/N’s smile grew slightly in amusement. He shrugged it off, biting back a grin of his own, knowing that she caught onto the gist of what he had meant, and that she was learning what his silence conveyed. They were learning each other as comfortably as adults could, with the interconnecting love for the children that had somehow sprung into their lives.

In the cozy sway of crimson liquids and hazy nights, the pair lounged, not ready to call it an end but their mouths were too thick to open. Instead, they mulled over what was and who they were, and how they had gotten there. She was still sat against the edge of the couch, as Harry occupied the other side, but their bodies were more turned into one another, knees slanted against the cushions and glasses marked similarly with the pressed lip marks, whites and pinks and the wine’s legs running down when they took a sip. The kids were soundly asleep in the rooms around them, and the world was comfortable.  



End file.
